We Are Begging For A Hero

Who can remember the lines that connect stars into the high cheekbones of our heroes? Where do we turn our imaginations?

A woman with her head wrapped in white bandages, the eyeholes blank and dark, sobbed as she begged for anyone to find the person who threw acid in her face.

Now her face is again bare, colored with ghastly yellows and greens. The police chief stands by her bed, hands folded, and says frankly, “She finally broke down today and confessed that she was not attacked, that in fact the acid was self-inflicted, though her motives are still unknown.”